


Lonely Christmas Eve

by Watching_The_Bees



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel being cute and angry, Christmas songs, Cooking, M/M, arts and crafts tree decorations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:03:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8983432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watching_The_Bees/pseuds/Watching_The_Bees
Summary: Snow ruins everything. Castiel's plans to go to Gabriel's for Christmas are off, and his terrible mood certainly isn't helped by his neighbor blaring cheery Christmas music and baking 24/7. It only makes it worse that his annoying neighbor is equal parts attractive. To turn this holiday around, Castiel would need a miracle - but Christmas is the time for miracles.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to delicious-irony for the amazing artwork!! https://delicious-irony.tumblr.com/

 

 

With every snowflake that fell to the ground, Castiel’s heart got heavier. By this time tomorrow there would be a solid two feet, and the clouds showed no sign of stopping. It was a regular holiday blizzard, and no matter how many months in advance he had made plans to visit his family for Christmas, he couldn’t get there if the flights were grounded.

“I know, Gabriel,” Castiel sighed into the phone. “I was looking forward to watching you shovel pie into your mouth at alarming speed too.”

“It’s the Eighth Annual Novak Pie Eating Contest, Cas!” Gabriel complained. “If you’re not here to moderate, Balthazar might try to cheat again.”

“Ah, yes, the infamous winter of ’09,” Castiel replied, cracking a smile as he looked out the window at the falling snow. As it piled up on the windowsill, the smile slid from his face.

“Well, there’s no way I’m going to make it. They’re calling for this storm to last all the way up till Christmas Day, and even if I managed to get a flight in then, by the time I got there, everyone else would be leaving.”

Gabriel sighed on the other end. “I know. I guess I’ll have to mail your gift, then.”

“If it’s another life-size cardboard cut out of David Hasselhoff, then please, save the cost of shipping.”

“Come on, Cassie, you really think I’m that unoriginal?” Gabriel’s grin carried over the phone. “It’ll just be a surprise.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, turning away from the window and heading to the kitchen. He put on a pot of tea and leaned against the counter. “Well, anyway, tell everyone hello and Merry Christmas. I’ll try to call sometime on Christmas, but I don’t want to interrupt the festivities much.” Castiel tried to keep the disappointment from his tone.

“You better call,” Gabriel replied. “And do try to have some fun, baby bro. If you can’t be here, don’t just sit in your house alone.”

“What’s there to do on Christmas?” Castiel asked, frowning at the floor. “I’d rather be alone at home than alone out at some restaurant and making someone work on Christmas.”

“Yeah, but I was at this strip club on Christmas once and all the girls dressed up as elves and handed out ‘presents,’ right-“

Castiel cut him off, “That’s all I need to hear of that story.”

“Aw, but that’s where it gets good.”“Goodbye, Gabriel.”

“See ya, Cas. Merry Christmas.”

Castiel smiled as the tea kettle boiled. “Merry Christmas, Gabe.”

He hung up the phone and poured himself a mug of tea. Grabbing his worn copy of _A Christmas Carol_ , Castiel settled down on the couch for a peaceful evening as the snow slowly walled him in. There were only two days until Christmas, and Castiel was glad that Sandover Corp was closed for the holidays. He hated driving in the snow, and taking his old Lincoln Continental out in this weather was terrifying. Now there was nothing stopping him from staying in his warm little apartment until the storm had passed and the roads were cleared.

Taking a sip of tea, Castiel let out a contented sigh and opened his book. He was only a page or two in when a loud radio began blaring music from the other side of the thin apartment walls. A slightly off-key voice joined in with the cheery tune, and Castiel frowned.

_“The party's on,_

_the feelin's here,_

_that only comes,_

_this time of year -_

_Simply having a wonderful christmastime.”_

Castiel had read the same paragraph three times, but it was okay. He was good at tuning out annoying noises. He could ignore it and still have a nice night with a good book and a warm cup of tea.

And Castiel did ignore it. He ignored the upbeat tones and the catchy melodies and even the deep voice singing along with it. But what he couldn’t ignore was the tantalizing smell that began wafting out of the vents in his living room.

The warm air smelled like it had come straight from the kitchen of a full service bakery. Castiel could detect cinnamon and nutmeg, sugar cookies, and maybe gingersnaps? Either way, it smelled heavenly. Castiel’s stomach rumbled, the salad that he’d fixed himself from dinner having evaporated from his stomach hours ago. One of the things Castiel looked forward to most about the holidays was Gabe’s excellent cooking and baking - the one time Castiel let himself cut loose from his healthy diet and indulge on the endless cookies and pies and hearty food.

When the hunger became unbearable, Castiel set his book aside and wandered into the kitchen, looking for anything that tasted even half as good as that air smelled. His fridge held nothing but the basics - vegetables, milk, a small amount of cheese, and leftovers from a day or two ago that would probably comprise tomorrow’s Christmas Eve dinner.

The pantry was a similarly sparse sight, at least as far as sweets went. Castiel didn’t even have enough sugar in his kitchen to whip up any kind of cookies or fudge or Christmasy dessert, and he wasn’t going out in the storm. Regardless, it didn’t seem right to make such foods alone in his apartment; those smells and tastes held with them good memories of family and holiday cheer - none of which Castiel was experiencing now.

With a sigh, Castiel settled for an apple, then headed to bed. It was still on the early side, but now that Castiel didn’t have a suitcase to pack or a flight to catch, he was suddenly bored. It was a good time to catch up on his sleep, he figured, but when he closed his eyes, he could still hear the music drifting through the walls.

_Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock_

_Jingle bell swing and jingle bells ring_

_Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun_

_Now the jingle hop has begun_

Castiel gave a huff and pulled his second pillow over his head, resting on his ears. It only helped a little. After what seemed like hours, Castiel finally drifted off to “Blue Christmas.”

 

—[]—

 

“Yeah, I know, Sammy,” Dean said, his phone pinched between his shoulder and his ear as he whisked some batter into shape. “But tomorrow’s Christmas Eve! I’m starting to worry that you and Jess aren’t going to make it.”

“Dean, whether tomorrow is Christmas Eve or not doesn’t much matter to the snowstorm happening right now, does it? There’s nothing we can do.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I guess. I’d rather you be safe than here, but I also…”

“You’ve been really looking forward to this, I know,” Sam finished for him.

“Sam, if you could see it - I have like six different types of cookies. And I haven’t even started on the pies yet,” Dean told him. “I have a twenty five pound turkey thawing, and I just bought enough potatoes to feed a small army. You bet I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Ugh, stop, Dean. I’ve been craving one of your pecan pies for weeks now.”

“That’s why I was planning on making _two_ ,” Dean told him with a little smile.

Sam laughed. “I get the point. Trust me, we’re going to try as hard as we can. Just… just don’t be too surprised if we don’t make it, okay?”

“Alright,” Dean replied. “In the meantime, I’m just going to carry on like you’ll be here.” Dean switched the phone to his hand as he crossed the room to get one of his cookie sheets, bringing him right next to the radio tuned to Christmas music.

“Yeah, do tha-“ Sam began, “God, Dean, can’t you turn that down?”

Dean grinned as he headed back across the kitchen and away from the music. “No, Sam, I can’t. It’s getting me in the Christmas spirit.”

“Uh huh,” Sam replied. “I’m sure your neighbors are loving your Christmas spirit.”

“Oh, come on. Who doesn’t like a good Christmas song or two?”

 

—[]—

 

Castiel loved a good Christmas song or two. Or even three, or four, or five. But Christmas songs twenty four seven? Castiel went to sleep to Christmas music, woke up to Christmas music, and now it was nearing evening again and the endless bombardment of holiday cheer still hadn’t ceased.

Even though it was freezing cold and snowing, Castiel decided to go for a walk. He had to get out of the apartment for a while and away from the sounds and smells that served as a constant reminder of what he was missing at Gabriel’s house. Bundling up in his favorite blue sweater, a scarf, hat, mittens, and his worn tan trench coat to keep the snow from soaking in, Castiel headed out. He paused as he passed his neighbor’s door, wondering what he was baking that was causing such a delicious smell to saturate the hallway.

Outside, the air was biting, but refreshing - free from any memories but mundane city life. Castiel headed off in a random direction, no real destination in mind. He had to walk gingerly on the icy sidewalk, and ended up taking a gravel path through a small park to avoid the slick concrete. In the center of the park, Castiel came to a bridge over a frozen stream and paused, brushing the snow from the railing so he could lean his elbows on it.

Out in the snow covered grass, Castiel watched as a boy and a girl engaged in a playful snowball fight, complete with slipping and wrestling in the deep snow. They reminded him of Michael’s kids - his niece and nephew whom he hadn’t seen in over a year. It looked like it would be longer still until he would see them next.

Pushing away from the railing, Castiel continued on his way, following the path as it looped around in a large circle. On his way back, he passed a small grove of evergreen trees, all pre-cut and sad looking.

_CHRISTMAS TREES, 50% OFF_ , a wooden sign read near the front of the grove. The options were thin; all the good trees had presumably been snatched up by the early customers. Even so, something about the smell filled Castiel with nostalgia. If he couldn’t sit with his family around a perfect Christmas Tree, maybe the pine smell could let him pretend for a little while. After all, no matter how sad they looked, they still smelled fresh and wonderful.

“Can I help you?” a smiling blonde woman asked from inside a little heated booth. “You fallin’ in love with any of our trees? They may be small, but they’ve got character.”

Castiel smiled a little as he stepped over to the counter. “Yes, I think I’d like one. It’s a little late, but…”

“Nonsense,” she said, waving her hand. “Better late than never, yeah?” Her smile was infectious, and Castiel found himself grinning. She offered her hand. “My name’s Donna. Now, which one did you have your eye on?”

After a few minutes of deliberation, Castiel picked one and payed her. “Do you have any suggestions on how I can get this back to my apartment?”

“How far is it?”

“Just on the other side of the park,” Castiel replied. “Probably only a few blocks.”

Donna stood on her toes, craning to look over and between the trees. “Alfie!” she called.

“Coming!” came the distant reply.

“Alfie’ll help you. He has a cart that you can take,” Donna told him, then leaned in and dropped her voice to a teasing whisper, “Though be warned - that kid works on tips.”

Castiel smiled. “I’ll be happy to tip him for his efforts. Thank you very much.”

Alfie came jogging up, a little out of breath. He seemed almost as happy as Donna, and it was starting to cheer Castiel up already. Together, they strapped the tree to the cart and carefully wheeled it out onto the path. Castiel was glad that he’d chosen one only a little taller than he was; if he’d picked one of the larger ones, they’d have a hard time maneuvering it.

Both Castiel and Alfie were a little out of breath by the time they reached the apartment building, and Castiel was feeling uncomfortably hot under all his layers. It was a little tough getting the tree through the doors, but once it was safely in Castiel’s living room, they both relaxed. Alfie wheeled his cart back into the hallway, saying, “Well, that sure makes your place look a little more festive!”

Castiel smiled. “It certainly does.” He paused, holding up a hand. “Wait here, I’ll grab some money to tip you.”

“Oh, it’s alright-“ Alfie half heartedly protested as Castiel ducked back into his apartment, the door swinging shut behind him.

Without thinking, Castiel shed his outerwear, then his sweater, still uncomfortably hot from the exertion. He headed back out into the hall in a sweaty t-shirt, a $20 bill in his hand. “Thank you for your help.”

Alfie raised his brows at the amount. “That’s awfully generous, but I can’t take that much-“

“Merry Christmas,” Castiel said, cutting him off.

“Merry Christmas to you too, sir!” Alfie replied, his grin reaching his ears. He gave an awkward little salute-wave and headed off with his cart.

Just as Castiel was about to head back inside, his neighbor’s door opened. A man about his age in a gaudy red and green sweater emerged carrying a large trash bag. He paused as his eyes fell on Castiel. “What was all that noise?” he asked. “All the grunting and banging sounded like sex at a construction site.” The man’s eyes flicked to Castiel’s shirt, then back to his face.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed into a glare. As if his neighbor had any room to talk about making too much noise. “For your information, I was bringing in a Christmas Tree.”

The man’s bright eyes widened, a smile tugging at his lips. “A Christmas Tree? Dude, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

“And?”

“And, don’t you think you should’ve gotten a tree, like, weeks ago? The only ones left now are crap,” his neighbor continued, the trash bag coming to rest on the floor. Despite his colorful outfit, the man was clearly fit and had a face that Castiel wouldn’t hesitate to call beautiful. If he would keep his mouth shut, that was. “You gotta plan ahead with these things,” the man admonished.

Castiel huffed. “Yes, well, my Christmas isn’t exactly going as planned, so I’d be grateful if you would reserve your judgement. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he snapped, stepping into his apartment and shutting the door firmly behind him. Castiel heard the rustle of a trash bag, then silence. He let out a breath, running over the entire encounter again in his mind.

The music was still playing loud, the baking still smelled infuriatingly good, and his neighbor was still getting on his nerves. It wasn’t fair that such an attractive man should be equal parts annoying.

With a sigh, Castiel surveyed the tree in his living room. It looked out of place - the only bit of life in an otherwise conservative and modest apartment. Needles were already littering Castiel’s cream carpet, but he figured vacuuming now would be a losing battle. Instead, he spread out a red towel in a shape vaguely resembling a circle around the base. The color looked a little better, but it was still plain and… sad. The needles were sparse, some of the limbs were drooping, and Castiel realized he didn’t have a single ornament.

As Castiel stared at the new addition to his living room, a wave of exhaustion rushed over him. Figuring out how to decorate the tree could wait for the next day. After all, it wasn’t like he had other plans for the holidays. Castiel took a long shower, wrapped himself in a soft sweater, and fell asleep - the Christmas music in the background a little quieter than the day before.

 

—[]—

 

By the evening of Christmas Eve, six different batches of cookies, five pies - two pecan, one pumpkin, one apple, and one cherry cranberry - and a rising batch of bread dough sat on Dean’s counter. Dean stood in the doorway, surveying his work and planning out what he had to do the next day before everyone arrived - assuming they would. The forecast wasn’t looking good. Though the storm was set to taper off by midday, the road crews were struggling to keep up, and clearing it in time for Sam and Jess to drive down could be an issue.

It wasn’t that Dean wanted Sam to risk an accident just to drive down for a visit, but this was supposed to be Jess’s first real holiday with the Winchesters. Dean knew how much Sam liked her, and he wanted her to feel at home, like one of them. He had done everything he could to make this Christmas perfect; he had planned for every eventuality, every dietary restriction, every minor disaster that could possibly ruin this holiday - everything but Sam and Jess not actually being able to come.

Dean let out a breath and forced himself to go sit down. He was still too pent up with worry about the next day to sleep, but he could at least sit on the couch and watch TV. Flipping on A Christmas Story, Dean settled in for a Christmas movie marathon to distract himself. He laughed out loud at the jokes he’d heard a hundred times, trying not to think about what time he had to put the turkey in the oven the next day. He recited some of the lines along with the actors on the screen in the hopes that he might forget to worry about the snow piling up around Sam’s sensible little Honda. Dean grinned at his favorite scenes, denying to himself that one of the things that terrified him was being alone on Christmas.

Who liked to be alone on the greatest holiday of the year?

 

—[]—

 

Castiel was alone, glaring at the wall. After spending the day attempting to use household items to decorate his tree, Castiel had ended up with a tree that looked like it had rolled around in a recycling heap before being deposited in his living room. Frustrated with his lack of artistic talent, Castiel had watched a few documentaries, then decided to call it a night. After all, he just wanted Christmas to come already so that it could pass by and he could move on with his life.

Castiel still held out a small hope of being able to visit Gabriel over New Year’s. Even if the rest of the family wasn’t there, at least he could spend a few days with his brother doing… whatever it was that Gabriel did on New Years Eve. On second thought, Castiel wasn’t sure whether he should be hoping to pull off that visitor not.

But now, lying in bed, Castiel couldn’t sleep. His bedroom shared a wall with his neighbor’s apartment, and he could hear near constant laughter and low voices that he couldn’t make out. It reminded him of everything he wasn’t a part of at Gabriel’s house, and he just wanted it to stop.

It was a little after midnight when Castiel had decided it was enough. Throwing his covers off, Castiel didn’t even bother putting on real clothes. He stormed out of his apartment in flannel pajama pants and a thick sweater, his hair messy and eyes murderous. Before he could think better of his decision, Castiel stalked over to his neighbor’s door and banged loudly.

There was a tense moment of approaching footsteps before the door opened a crack, Castiel’s neighbor’s body filling the gap. He looked confused. “Can I… help you?”

Castiel momentarily forgot why he was there before blinking rapidly and straightening. “Yes. I understand that you and your company are having a good time, but for those of us who would actually like to sleep on Christmas Eve, I would appreciate if you could keep it down.”

The man blinked. “Um…What?”

His eyes narrowing, Castiel let his pent up frustrations out in a rush. “As if you haven’t been obnoxious enough over the past few days with the constant blaring of Christmas music or the singing or the incessant baking, now on the day before Christmas you continue to be inconsiderate even though it’s well past midnight and an entirely reasonable time to wish for silence.” The man was just staring, and Castiel huffed. “I understand that you are enjoying yourself, and that is fine, but for those of us who don’t have family and friends to gather with on Christmas Eve, at least have the courtesy to tone down the celebrations this late at night.”

Castiel’s neighbor just looked at him. “Sorry, man. I didn’t realize I was being that loud.”

He looked so confused and sincere that Castiel didn’t know how to respond. He still wanted to be angry, but after an apology, it was hard to find reason to. “It’s alright. I apologize for… disturbing you,” he muttered. Now that his rant was over, it seemed less deserved than it had a minute ago.

Castiel turned to go, but his neighbor spoke again, saying, “And, uh…” he pulled the door open wider, showing Castiel that his apartment was empty. “It’s just me in here. Which means I was being loud all by myself, so I’m really sorry.”

Staring past the man’s shoulder, Castiel blinked. “I… It’s I who should be sorry for that one. I heard voices, and laughter, and assumed…”

His neighbor rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “Nah, it’s just me an a _It’s a Wonderful Life_ right now.”

Castiel felt foolish. “Again, I apologize. This storm has ruined my holiday plans, and I guess that’s made me a little irritable.” He didn’t meet the man’s eyes. “I promise I am usually more… easy going.”

Castiel’s neighbor laughed, the smile lighting up his face only making him more handsome. “That’s probably true, or else I’m sure I would’ve annoyed you enough to storm over long ago.” He paused. “How come we’ve never officially met? I’m Dean.”

“Dean,” Castiel repeated, looking down as Dean offered his hand. He accepted it. “I’m Castiel.”

“Nice to finally meet you, neighbor,” Dean replied, smiling again. “And don’t worry about being grinchy; I get it. This storm’s ruining all kinds of things.”

Castiel felt his cheeks flush. “I should have considered that my plans were not the only ones affected.”

Dean shrugged. “You’re fine, man. Luckily, _I’m_ pretty easy going all the time.” He grinned, and Castiel cracked a smile even though the joke was at his expense. “Hey,” Dean began, “since this movie marathon’s just me and I have a rough half ton of baked goods and two cartons of egg nog with no guarantees my family will make it to get rid of it all, you want to join me?” At Castiel’s surprise, Dean added, “I mean, it’s nothing super exciting, and if you just want to sleep, I promise I’ll be quiet, but if we’re both going to be alone on opposite sides of the wall, might as well be alone together, right?”

“I believe being ‘alone together’ is an oxymoron,” Castiel replied, “but I’d like that.”

“Great!” Dean said, a genuine smile lighting his green eyes. “Come on in.”

Castiel hesitated. “Should I put some real clothes on first?”

Dean glanced down at Castiel’s outfit for what seemed like the first time. “If you want. But if you’re comfy, why bother? I mean, look at me.” Dean gestured to his own sweatpants and t-shirt.

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, following Dean into his apartment and gently shutting the door behind him.

“Have a seat,” Dean offered, nodding towards the couch. “You want some egg nog?”

“Sure.” Awkwardly, Castiel perched on the edge of the couch, noting how different Dean’s apartment was from his own. It was more cluttered, but had a warm, inviting air. His tree was full and lush, decorated with both classy, delicate ornaments and tacky ones that looked home made. An angel perched at the top of the tree - a delicate porcelain doll with blonde hair and faded gold wings. Castiel had forgotten an angel on his own tree.

Dean returned a minute later with a large plate of various cookies and two glasses of egg nog. He sat down next to Castiel and handed him a glass. “Cookie?” he offered.

Castiel plucked a gingerbread off the plate, saying, “Thank you, Dean.” He looked down at the man and his smiling face and detailed scarf and hat. “These are beautiful.”

Dean shrugged. “I guess I went a little overboard with the baking. You might even call it ‘incessant’,” he teased, bumping Castiel’s shoulder with his own.

Flushing, Castiel set his glass down on a coaster and idly broke an arm off the cookie. “Again, I’m sorry about that. You are clearly allowed to cook whatever you want in your own home.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Dean promised, leaning back and making himself comfortable. “What do you have against baking anyway?”

“Nothing,” Castiel replied, keeping his eyes down on the cookie. “I never bake for myself, so I tend to associate it with family and holidays.” He held up the gingerbread. “Particularly Christmas. I guess I was just jealous.”

Dean considered him as the movie played in the background, neither of them watching. “Why didn’t you make some, then?”

Castiel looked up, admitting, “I didn’t have any ingredients. Also, me baking is… not a good idea. There’s a reason it never happens.”

“You don’t have the ingredients? Even for, like, chocolate chip cookies?” Dean asked, his brows shooting up. “Dude.”

“I try to eat healthy,” Castiel replied defensively. “If I don’t keep stuff like sugar on hand, I can’t eat it.” Dean stared at him as he put the arm of the gingerbread man in his mouth. After chewing, he said, “Though this is delicious, Dean.”

Dean just blinked at him. “No sugar?”

“Very little sugar, anyway. Natural sweeteners are better.”

“No _sugar_?”

Castiel’s brows furrowed. “Dean?”

Dean shook his head. “I’m sending you home with a huge plate of cookies, Cas.”

The nickname caught Castiel by surprise, but he didn’t mind it. Other than Gabriel, people rarely shortened his name. “I suppose that would be fine.”

“It better be fine.” Dean shook his head again, muttering. “No _sugar_.”

Castiel cracked a smile. “Your house looks beautiful, by the way. I’m afraid you were right about my tree. It is… not in its finest state.”

“I’m sure once you cover it with ornaments and tinsel, it’ll look fine,” Dean told him, looking at his own tree. Castiel immediately averted his gaze, and Dean caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t tell me,” he started. “Cas…”

“Dean…” Castiel echoed.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have Christmas ornaments.”

“Okay,” Castiel replied, trying to appear casual as he broke another limb off his gingerbread. “I won’t.”

Dean stared at him incredulously. “Cas, man, where is your Christmas spirit?”

Castiel shrugged. “I usually spend the holidays at my brother’s house. This year, the snow grounded the flights and I’m stuck here. I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“But you’re probably only gone for a few days, right? What about the rest of the December?” Dean pressed. “Don’t you have decorations for then?”

“No…”

“Then what’s on your tree?”

Castiel looked around the room shiftily. “Well, I _tried_ …”

Dean stood up, plucking the rest of Cas’s uneaten cookie and putting it back on the plate before pulling him up by the hand. Castiel went willingly, but Dean still put a hand on his back and pushed him towards the door. “Show me how bad it is.”

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Castiel grumbled with no real venom.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Since when are you the Christmas Authority?”

Dean steered him out the door. “Since you have no _Christmas spirit_.”

Castiel huffed as he entered his apartment and gestured toward the Christmas tree that looked like a declining elderly relative of the one in Dean’s living room. Dean stepped away from Castiel, approaching the tree as cautiously as one might a diseased animal. “Are these… plastic water bottles?” he asked, flicking one of the “ornaments.”

Half embarrassed, Castiel spread his palms. “I said I _tried_. I didn’t say I succeeded.”

“And this is…?” Dean hooked a finger on a string of little lopsided stars cut out of yellow legal pad paper.

“Fishing line with stars taped on,” Castiel admitted in a mumble.

“Dude,” Dean breathed, looking the tree up and down. “A for effort, man, but…”

Castiel huffed, “Yes, I know. It’s rather… sad.”

Dean shrugged, turning back around. “It has potential. Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Back to my apartment,” Dean replied, leading the way. “This movie marathon is now an emergency Christmas crafting session.”

There was nothing for Castiel to do but follow as Dean made his way back to his apartment, then cleared the pies and cookies off his kitchen table. Castiel sat there, watching as Dean hurried around his apartment and collected supplies. By the time Dean had spread colored paper, scissors, hot glue, markers, and - of all things - glitter on the table, he headed for the stereo. “Do you mind if I put on Christmas music? Or…”

“Go ahead,” Castiel replied with a smile. He had the feeling it wouldn’t be nearly as annoying on this side of the wall.

Dean sat across from Castiel at the table, saying, “Well? What are you waiting for? Start making ornaments.”

“I don’t know how.” Castiel frowned. “Why do you even have all this stuff?”

With a shy little smile, Dean plucked a sheet of blue paper from the stack. “I, uh, teach kindergarten. Which has its perks, I guess. We get off for a solid two weeks at Christmas, I always have glitter on hand, and I’m never in need of Christmas ornaments.” Dean gestured towards his tree, and, upon closer inspection, Castiel could tell that the handmade ornaments were haphazard and childish. There was a soft look on Dean’s face as he turned back to the task at hand. “Plus I’m good with kids.”

“I sure hope so,” Castiel replied. “Honestly, I applaud you. Teaching kindergarten sounds like a tougher job than I could handle.” He watched Dean folding the paper into a little triangle and copied his movements.

“What do you do?” Dean asked, reaching for the scissors. He cut out little chunks of paper, letting them fall to the wooden table.

“I work for Sandover Corporation,” Castiel said as he, too, cut out random little shapes from the construction paper. “It’s nothing exciting, but it pays well and I don’t mind it.” He didn’t want to talk about work when there was nothing to talk about, so he changed the subject. “So you said your family might not make it?”

Dean nodded and unfolded his paper to reveal a cute little snowflake. “Yeah,” he said, tying a string through one of the holes. “My brother, Sam, and his girlfriend were supposed to come down, but with the snow and the roads as they are…” He shrugged. “I’m hopeful, but, you know.”

“You never realize how much you enjoy these traditions until you can’t have them,” Castiel agreed.

“Yeah. I’m sorry you can’t be with your family either,” Dean commented, squirting some glitter glue on his snowflake. “But, you know, you’re welcome to come over for Christmas. Whether my brother makes it or not.”

Castiel looked up. “That’s very generous of you, Dean.”

Dean’s cheeks turned a little pink, and he shrugged. “Just, you know, being practical. I have a twenty five pound turkey just sitting in the fridge, so.”

With a little laugh, Castiel unfolded his own snowflake, pleased to see how it turned out. “You got such a large turkey for just three of you?”

“Cas, look around,” Dean instructed. Castiel did, eying the dozens of cookies, the dishes of pie, and the ingredients set out for the following day’s meal. “I think it’s safe to say I went a _bit_ overboard.”

Slowly, Castiel nodded. “Yes, I do think that’s safe to say.” He paused to cut a piece of string. “Any particular reason?”

“Jess has never been here for the holidays before,” Dean told Castiel, then clarified, “Jess is Sam’s girlfriend.”

“Ah. I assumed.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, well, Sam’s crazy about her. I think he’s going to ask her to marry him soon, but she’s way out of his league. I don’t know how he’s managed to hold onto her for this long,” he said, quirking a smile. “But I just thought that if I make this Christmas perfect, I could show her that, even if we’re not a cookie-cutter, white-picket-fence family, we’re not so bad. Sammy’s a good kid. I just want everything to go smooth for him.”

Castiel listened as Dean talked, hearing the warmth in his voice when he mentioned Sam’s name. Dean didn’t mention his parents, and Castiel didn’t feel right asking. After all, they’d only just met. “I hope they can make it. There’s still a chance.”

“A Christmas miracle,” Dean replied with a grin.

“A Christmas miracle,” Castiel agreed. As far as Castiel was concerned, he was living one right now.

 

—[]—

 

Dean didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching those long slender fingers fold colorful paper, or tie delicate little strings, or cut out Christmasy shapes. He couldn’t help but watch as Castiel’s brow furrowed in concentration when he very carefully applied the glitter glue to his creations like it required as much focus as heart surgery. He let out a little laugh, and Castiel glanced up. “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just…”

Castiel straightened, his fingers releasing the pressure on the tube of glitter glue. “I’m what?”

_Cute_ , Dean wanted to say. “Surprising,” is what he ended up going with. “A few hours ago, you were all grumpy and annoyed with me, and now you’re in my kitchen making Christmas ornaments. It’s been a wild ride.”

Cas smiled a little, his hair still as messy as when he’d shown up at Dean’s door. And that definitely wasn’t adorable. “Hm, yes. Well, thank you for letting me crash your Christmas Eve, Dean.”

“I think it’s officially Christmas now,” Dean pointed out, then continued, “But I’m glad you’re here. Being alone seems lonelier on Christmas.”

Castiel squinted at him. “You are full of oxymorons.”

“You’re an oxymoron,” Dean shot back.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Dean grinned. “Shut up.”

Castiel cracked a smile, and went back to his gluing. By the time they had a small army of angels, a blizzard of snowflakes, and a forest of candy canes, Dean and Castiel left the ornaments to dry and migrated back to the living room to catch the tail end of _Elf_. Before it had even gone off, Dean looked over to find Castiel slumped against the arm of the couch, his eyes closed. He looked more peaceful when asleep, and Dean hesitated to move him.

Dean waited until the final credits rolled before leaning over and nudging Castiel’s shoulder. “Cas, buddy.” Castiel didn’t respond. “Cas, you wanna go home? The couch isn’t going to seem so comfy in a few hours. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

Castiel let out a little groan and mumbled something that Dean didn’t catch. “What was that?” Dean prompted.

“No,” was all Castiel replied, not opening his eyes.

Dean shouldn’t have found that as cute as he did. Shaking his head, he slid one arm behind Castiel and one arm under his knees, lifting him from the couch with considerable effort. The man was by no means out of shape, but that didn’t make him light. Luckily, it was only a few steps to the spare room, where Dean deposited Castiel on the bed, pulling the covers over him. Chances seemed slim that Sam and Jess would need the room anyway, and Dean could always change the sheets in the morning.

Castiel snuggled into the pillow, pulling the comforter tighter around him. Dean smiled and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Cas,” before turning out the light and closing the door. Perhaps it was silly to want Castiel to stay over when his own apartment was right next door, but Dean felt less lonely with him in the guest room.

It had been a long time since Dean had had as much fun as that night, and it took the edge off his worries about Sam and the perfect Christmas Day. Sure, he hung out with Charlie and Garth from school sometimes, and they played board games and had a good time, but spending time with Castiel was different. He was new and interesting, cute and funny in a dry sort of way. He had just made several hours pass in the blink of an eye, and Dean couldn’t help but wish he’d stick around a little longer. After all, no one should be alone on Christmas, and thanks to Castiel, that was one fear eased from Dean’s mind.


	2. Chapter 2

On Christmas morning, Castiel woke up unsure of where exactly he was. His eyes were dry, and when they focused, it was on an unfamiliar room. The smell of bacon wafting in under the door didn’t spark Castiel’s memory as much as the Christmas music playing just barely loud enough to hear through the wall did. He was in Dean’s apartment. Dean, the neighbor he’d been thoroughly annoyed at for several days. Dean, who turned out to be the opposite of everything Castiel expected.

Rolling over, Castiel glanced at the clock. It was past nine, and Castiel likely would’ve gone back to sleep if it weren’t for the rumbling of his stomach. Pulling himself out of bed, Castiel straightened his sweater and headed out into the hall. Castiel found Dean in the kitchen, flipping pancakes and singing under his breath. In something like a little dance, Dean spun around to grab a dish of butter and spotted Castiel in the doorway. He froze, his cheeks turning the color of the santa sweater he wore.

Plastering on a teasing smile, Dean said, “Mornin’, sunshine.” His light tone was clearly forced, but Castiel didn’t comment.

“Good morning, Dean. Is there anything I can help with?”

“Nah,” Dean said, turning back to what he was doing. He flipped the last pancake onto an already full plate, then turned around and set it next to the bacon on the table. “Just help me eat all this food, and we’ll call it even.”

Castiel smiled. “I appreciate it, but you didn’t have to go to any trouble.”

“How’s making breakfast on Christmas morning ‘trouble’?” Dean asked, stabbing a pancake for himself. When Castiel made no motion to take anything, Dean loaded his plate for him, forcing him to eat. “It’s a tradition. I would’ve made it even if I was the only one here to eat it.”

Castiel bit a piece of bacon in half. As he chewed, he studied Dean. “You really like Christmas, don’t you?”

Dean grinned as he drowned his pancakes in syrup. “It’s my favorite holiday.”

“Any particular reason why?” Castiel asked conversationally. He felt like a lot of the night before had been focused on him - his grinchiness, his bare tree, his Christmas being ruined. Castiel wanted to know more about Dean. He wanted to know his favorite holiday, his favorite color, his favorite song. He wasn’t sure why, but maybe he didn’t need a reason.

“Yeah,” Dean answered with a smile. “Probably because of Sammy. When he was a kid, he’d get _so excited_ for Christmas. He’d wake me up at, like, six AM yelling about Christmas and Santa and presents. We never had a ton of presents, but he didn’t really care. He could be unwrapping a pack of pencils and he’d be the happiest kid in the world.”

Dean’s voice was warm, and there were a few little crinkles around his eyes when he finished talking. Even so, the smile fell from Dean’s face soon after, replaced by a hint of a worried frown.

“They’ll make it, Dean,” Castiel assured him, guessing at what he was thinking.

His head snapping up, Dean replied, “How do you know?”

“If there’s one thing these songs and movies and everything teach us about Christmas,” Castiel told him with a little smile, “it’s thatyou just have to believe.”

For a minute, Dean just looked at him. Then, he slowly started to smile. “Why, Cas. I think your heart might have grown three sizes overnight.”

Castiel scowled at him. “How do you know how large my heart was before?”

“Let’s say it was an educated guess.” Dean cut a piece of his pancakes. “Educated by you pounding on my door and ranting about Christmas music and laughter.”

“That’s not fai-“

Dean laughed. “I’m just teasing, Cas. You know I’m never going to let that go, right?”

“Never?”

“Never.”

Castiel’s brow smoothed out, and he let it drop. Dean thought there was a future to their relationship. If they had a never, maybe they could have a forever too.

After they finished eating breakfast, Castiel took their plates to the sink, then paused at the edge of the table, looking down at Dean. “Thank you for breakfast, Dean, but I should go. I don’t want to impose on your hospitality for too long.”

“You’re not imposing on anything,” Dean promised, looking comfortable and domestic in an oversized sweater nursing a cup of coffee. Castiel wished he could take a picture in this soft light of this soft morning.

“Even so, I ought to get a shower. And perhaps put on some real clothes for once,” Castiel replied, quirking a smile. “Thank you for everything, Dean. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Dean answered, his gaze following Castiel as he turned to go.

Castiel had only reached the doorway when the sound of a chair scraping across the floor made him pause. He turned to find Dean standing, a look on his face almost like that of a hopeful child. He sounded like one when he asked, “Cas? You’re still coming back for dinner, right?”

For a second, Castiel could imagine a much smaller Dean using that same voice. _But Santa’s still going to bring us presents, right?_ He smiled. “Of course, Dean. Actually, I was thinking you might want to help me hang the ornaments we made last night? And, in return, I’d be happy to help with anything I can for dinner.” Castiel added, “Just be warned, I have been known to… burn things.”

Dean laughed, some of the barely noticeable tension easing from his shoulders. “Sure thing, Cas. Just come knock on my door when you’re ready, and I’ll bring the ornaments over, okay?”

“Sounds good. See you later, then.”

“See ya, Cas.”

Castiel left the apartment still thinking about Dean’s grinch comment. Maybe he was right; maybe Castiel’s heart really had grown three sizes overnight.

After all, it certainly seemed to swell whenever Dean was around.

 

—[]—

 

“There,” Dean said, hanging the last candy cane decorated with red glitter glue. “It’s no work of art, but-“

“It’s perfect,” Castiel breathed, stepping back to take in the whole sight. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean was frowning when Castiel glanced his way. “It’s missing something.”

They were standing so close that Castiel could almost feel Dean’s warmth through his red cable knit sweater. He felt fresh and clean, but could still smell his own shampoo. He wanted to turn around and hug Dean until some of his scent rubbed off, masking the soapy aroma clinging to his skin.

“The angel! For the top,” Dean said, pointing. “What can we use as an angel?”

“Can’t it also be a star? We could cut one of those out of paper,” Castiel suggested.

Dean shook his head, adamant. “No. It has to be an angel.”

“Why?”

“It just does, Cas,” Dean replied firmly. “It just does.” Dean glanced around Castiel’s tidy apartment, then gestured towards the kitchen. “You mind if I…?”

“Go right ahead,” Castiel told him, then followed him into the kitchen.

Dean opened a few cabinets and drawers, pulling out things that seemed random, but probably had some sort of use. He grabbed coffee filters, food coloring, a metal funnel, and twist ties before opening the fridge. “Wow,” Dean said. “You have no food.”

“What do you mean?” replied Castiel from where he was leaning against the counter, watching Dean work. “There’s all kinds of fruit, and some vegetables in the crisper drawer-“

“Exactly. You have _no food_ ,” Dean said again.

Castiel rolled his eyes. Pulling out a container of grapes, Castiel raised a brow. “Do I even want to know what you’re going to do with those?”

Dean just grinned. Sitting down at the kitchen table, Dean got to work. He turned the funnel so the wide end was resting on the table, then used the thin stem at the top to impale a grape. “There’s her head,” Dean told Castiel, glancing up with a grin. “You’re angel’s going to be purple-skinned, hope that’s okay.”

Shrugging, Castiel replied, “Christmas is a time for unity of all races - purple skinned or otherwise,” he deadpanned. “Besides, angels are ethereal beings. Who’s to say they resemble humans at all? They could be giants, taller than buildings, with no corporeal form.”

“Cas, I got way too little sleep last night for you to go all metaphysical, philosophical, whatever on me,” Dean said as he cut slits into the white coffee filters until they resembled angel wings. “Would you grab me a cup of water? Half full, in a cup that won’t stain.”

Castiel did as he was asked, bringing over a glass cup of water and set it in front of Dean. “Should I ask what you’re doing?”

“Have you never dyed coffee filters before?” Dean asked, looking up at him through his lashes. Castiel shook his head. “Sit down,” Dean replied, gesturing towards the seat next to him. “It’s kinda cool to watch. The kindergarteners do these with magic markers - you should see the look of amazement on their faces.”

Dean spread out a coffee filter in front of him, then reached for the tubes of food coloring. “What color do you want her dress, Cas?”

It only took a second of meeting Dean’s eyes to decide, “Green.”

Nodding, Dean uncapped the green bottle. Castiel was quiet as he watched Dean put a few drops offood coloring onto the coffee filter, then fold it into a cone like shape and put the tip in the water. Slowly, the water moved up through the paper, catching the dye and drawing it throughout. Dean was right - it was cool to watch, even if Castiel knew the simple science behind it.

Dean pulled the filter out of the water and laid it flat on a paper towel. “It’ll need a while to dry.”

“Do you want to take it over to your place? We could start preparing for dinner while it dries, then put it together later.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean said, gathering the pieces to the angel and gently carrying them off. Castiel opened the doors for him, and Dean safely made it inside his own apartment to set the pieces down.

Castiel surveyed Dean’s kitchen. “So, what do you start with first?”

“Uh, the turkey should probably go in soon, if it’s going to be done around five.”

“Is that when your brother and his girlfriend are supposed to arrive?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. He cast his eyes towards the window, watching the snow pile higher and higher on the windowsill. “It’s not looking too promising, though.”

Castiel followed his gaze. “They’ll make it, Dean.”

Dean forced a smile. “Well, no use in worrying about it, huh? Let’s just make dinner, and if worst comes to worst, we’ll have a massive turkey to eat all by ourselves.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

Grinning, Dean opened the fridge and pulled out the already prepared turkey. “You ever eat so much you actually got sick, Cas?”

“No,” Castiel replied, eyeing the bird like it was about to move.

“Well, there’s a first to everything, right?” Dean’s smile was light and teasing.

Castiel scowled at him. “What do you want me to help with?” he asked, briskly moving the conversation along before Dean took that as a challenge.

“You said you burn things, right?” Dean asked, and Castiel nodded. “Then I’ll keep you away from the heat. Want to peel some potatoes, or should I worry about those pretty little fingers of yours?”

Sending a glance at Dean, Castiel moved towards the bag of potatoes sitting on the counter. “My motor skills are fine, Dean.”

Castiel couldn’t tell if he was imagining the slight blush he caught on Dean’s cheeks when he turned around. “Yeah, well, can’t be too careful.”

They got to work, Castiel’s peeler zipping steadily across the potato and Dean carefully stuffing the turkey. When their tasks were finished, they moved on to green bean casserole, sweet potatoes in some kind of syrup that Castiel hadn’t seen Dean make, and seven layer salad.

“Okay, now the next layer is mayo,” Dean called over to Castiel, who had just finished spreading a handful of peas across the lettuce.

Castiel looked up at him, but Dean’s face was expressionless, focused on the gravy he was stirring. “You’re joking.”

Dean glanced up. “Nope. Haven’t you had seven layer salad before?”

“Dean, judging by the contents of my fridge, I think you should be able to guess the answer to that.”

“Not even at your brother’s place, though?”

“Gabriel has quite the sweet tooth, but I believe even he would find this disgusting.”

Dean dipped a finger in the gravy, then lifted it to his lips for a taste. He was facing the stove, and missed the way Castiel’s eyes tracked the movement. “But there’s bacon,” he protested after deeming the gravy done. “It’s seriously way better than it sounds on paper.”

Castiel shook his head, but reached for the jar of mayo. “I might just have to take your word for that.”

Quirking a smile, Dean replied, “You should probably just take my word for everything.”

“That sounds unwise.”

Dean leaned back against the counter across from Castiel, taking a break. “Are you calling me unwise?”

Castiel didn’t reply, just stayed pointedly silent. After a moment, Dean laughed. “You know what? I’m glad I pissed you off with all that Christmas music. I’m actually having fun.”

“You say that like you’re surprised,” Castiel pointed out, but he wasn’t offended.

With a little half shrug, Dean replied, “Yeah, well, Christmas for me has always meant time with Sammy. I thought that if that didn’t happen this year, everything would be ruined, but… it sure doesn’t feel ruined.”

Castiel’s heart warmed at his words, and he let his face relax into a smile. “I couldn’t agree more. What goes on top of the bacon?”

“Cheese.”

Scowling, Castiel surveyed the bowl. “I think this should be called something other than ‘salad’.”

“Hey, I didn’t make it up,” Dean replied, raising his hands in the air.

With the oven on for hours, the kitchen was getting hot, and Castiel could feel the sweat rolling down the center of his back. While his sweater was certainly comfortable, it was also a little too good at keeping him warm. He pushed the sleeves up for the hundredth time and wiped an arm across his brow.

“You okay?” Dean asked, suddenly closer than Castiel had realized. So close, in fact, that his own body heat only added to Castiel’s discomfort.

“Just a little hot,” Castiel replied, waving him off.

“Only a little?” Dean teased, a grin playing at his lips. “Aw, Cas, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Castiel looked at him. “I don’t understand.”

Dean gave a hearty, full-bodied laugh, clapping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I was just teasing,” he assured Castiel. “Want me to get you a lighter shirt?” he offered before adding quickly, “Though that’s stupid of me - your apartment’s right next door. You don’t want-“

“If you don’t mind,” Castiel cut into the beginning of Dean’s ramblings. “I know it’s not far, but I don’t feel like walking back there.”

Dean almost seemed to brighten at that, the stammering awkwardness gone. “Sure, man! Give me one sec.” He darted into the other room, and in a few seconds returned with a dark grey henley. “I thought a t-shirt would be too cold,” he explained. “But this is a lot lighter than that sweater.”

“It’s perfect, thank you, Dean.” Castiel took the shirt from him, then hesitated, trying to figure out where he should change. Should he leave the room? Or would that be weird? After all, they were just two guys, and guys changed around each other all the time. It wasn’t weird, right?

Castiel settled for stepping out of the kitchen and changing in the living room. His back was to Dean as he stripped off his sweater and draped it across the back of the couch, then pulled on Dean’s fresh shirt. Castiel couldn’t help but notice how different the laundry detergent smelled from his own, and he kind of liked it. When he turned back around, Dean’s focus was on completing the salad in front of him, but his movements were jerky, and there was a flush of pink to his cheeks. Castiel couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit proud.

Dean rolled a tube of Pillsbury crescent rolls across the table, saying, “If you roll those up, I’ll stick them in the oven as soon as the turkey comes out.”

Before Castiel could agree, Dean’s phone started ringing. He brushed a few shreds of cheese from his hands and reached for it. “Sorry, I’m just gonna-“

“Take your time, Dean.”

Shooting Castiel a quick smile, Dean stepped into the living room and brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, Sam. Merry Christmas.”

Castiel could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was easy enough to fill in.

“I know,” Dean was saying, “I’d rather you guys be safe.” There was a pause. “Nah, not too much trouble.” Pause. “Yeah, yeah, we both know I went ahead and made enough to feed the entire Roadhouse.” Pause. “I’m not alone.” Pause. “My neighbor, Cas.” Pause. “Castiel’s a guy, Sam. And because I didn’t know him before.” Pause. “Yeah, yeah. Tell Jess Merry Christmas from me too, will you?” Pause. “Okay. We’ll talk later. Love ya, Sammy.”

There was no use in pretending that he hadn’t heard that conversation, so when Dean came back to the kitchen to find a half a tray of crescent rolls, Castiel said, “Is Sam not going to make it?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Dean replied, taking a seat next to Castiel. “But it’s cool. He and Jess are off school for another couple weeks, so they’ll make it down soon enough.”

Castiel simply nodded and tore off the next piece of perforated dough, pausing when Dean snorted. “What?”

“Of course you would actually roll them into the shape they’re supposed to be.”

Staring at him blankly, Castiel replied, “How else would you do it? It has clear instructions on the package. I believe there’s a picture and everything.”

A smile played at Dean’s lips. “Have some imagination, Cas. Here,” he said, taking the next two triangles. He grabbed a little paring knife and used it to cut, then folded and pinched almost too fast for Castiel to follow. When he was done, something vaguely resembling a doughy angel sat on the tray. “Tah dah.”

“Impressive,” Castiel deadpanned.

Dean grinned, handing him a triangle. “Now you make something.”

Castiel frowned at the limp piece of dough in his hand. “What am I supposed to make?”

“Whatever you want. The first thing that comes to mind.”

His frown turning to one of concentration, Castiel rolled the triangle into the longest tube he could, then bent it around, pinching the ends together and making little points. He set his doughy star next to Dean’s angel on the sheet. When Castiel looked over at his neighbor, Dean was smiling softly. “That’s the spirit, Cas,” he said a little quieter than before. He handed Castiel the last piece. “Here, make whatever you want. There’s another tube in the fridge.”

Castiel folded the dough, then unfolded it, then re-folded it again, and when Dean returned from the fridge, he had something that vaguely resembled a bow.

“Perfect,” Dean said, smiling. He popped the new tube open, and they used it to make some Christmas trees, snowmen, bows, and a very malformed snowflake. Each on their last triangles, Castiel rolled his into a thin tube, then twisted it around into a heart, setting it gently on the tray.

“Is that one for me?” Dean asked, smirking.

Castiel could feel the color rushing to his cheeks, but after a moment of recovery, he managed a reply. “It depends on what you’re making me.”

Dean considered the dough in his hand before taking the knife and cutting out two leaves. With the remaining bits, he formed a few little balls and plopped them in the middle. “How’s mistletoe?”

Feeling his cheeks burn anew, Castiel swallowed. Nodding, he replied, “I suppose that is acceptable.” When he looked up, Dean was grinning.

Castiel was suddenly aware of how close he and Dean were standing. Their arms were almost brushing, their personal space merging into one. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Castiel forced himself not to stare at Dean’s perfect face or his perfect lips or his perfect little uncertain grin - it was useless. The only way not to fall into Dean’s perfect features was to not look at him at all, and that would just be a shame.

“I knew I was missing something,” Dean muttered, still smiling a little. “For all the decorating I did… I forgot the mistletoe.”

“It’s good that you don’t have it,” Castiel replied, facing Dean and making no attempt to step back and preserve his personal bubble.

Dean’s face fell a fraction. “Oh?”

Castiel nodded, his face carefully serious. “Mistletoe is just a crutch. All it does is serve as a push to get someone to do something they wouldn’t be brave enough to try otherwise,” he said. He tilted his head. “You strike me as the brave type, Dean.”

After considering this for a moment, Dean replied, “True. The biggest issue with mistletoe is despite how brave one person might or might not be, mistletoe might force the other person into an uncomfortable situation if they aren’t agreeable.”

“Hmm,” Castiel replied. Until that point, he thought that Dean was catching his meaning when he subtly encouraged him to be brave and just _kiss him_. But now, he was getting lost. Did Dean mean to hint that _he_ would be uncomfortable, or did he not want to risk making Castiel uncomfortable? “You do have a point. But I think that’s something that could easily be read by body language.”

Castiel very pointedly did not step away. There were only a few inches between him and Dean at this point, and Dean’s eyes flicked down to his lips. “Right,” he said, then swallowed. “Body language is a good…” he trailed off, eyes meeting Castiel’s. “Indicator.”

And then Dean was leaning in, and then Castiel was closing his eyes, and then the doorbell was ringing, and then Dean was jerking back. “Uh,” he began, eyes blown wide with surprise or fear like they were doing something horrible and just got caught.

Dean blinked at Castiel for a minute, and Castiel couldn’t think of anything to say but, “Should you answer that?”

Breaking from his stupor, Dean swallowed, nodded, and headed for the door.

“Dean,” Castiel called when he was halfway there. Dean turned in askance. “I do get a raincheck on that kiss, right?”

Dean’s face split into a smile. “Of course, Cas. Or better yet - how about a _snow check_?”

Castiel stared at him. “Yeah, I don’t want it anymore.”

“Aw, come on-“

With a quick roll of his eyes, Castiel replied, “I’m kidding, Dean. Answer the door.”

Still grinning, Dean turned back around and took the final few steps to the door, not bothering to look through the peephole before wrenching it open.

“Surprise!” a group of four people bundled in heavy coats and gloves shouted.

There was a brief moment of silence before Dean threw himself at the tallest man, saying, “Sammy! You made it!”

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam replied, grinning over Dean’s shoulder. “Bobby offered to drive us down. Fancy four wheel drive and all that.”

“Told ya you’d regret that Honda, boy,” the man Castiel could only assume was Bobby muttered. He held a bottle of wine in his hand.

Dean pulled back from the hug and looked to the rest of the group. “Bobby,” he greeted. “And Ellen, and Jess! Man, what a party. Come on in.”

Castiel lingered in the doorway of the kitchen, not knowing whether he should step forward and introduce himself or disappear into his surroundings.

Making the decision for him, Dean gestured for Castiel to come forward, then said, “Guys, this is my neighbor Castiel.” Dean threw a grin at him, and he could only hope he wasn’t the only one who felt a tingle of excitement run down his spine. “He’s staying for dinner, if that’s cool.”

“Of course it is,” Jess said immediately, stepping forward and dropping the bag of presents she held to wrap Castiel in a hug. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Castiel replied, surprised by how much he actually meant it. When she stepped back, Bobby followed with a firm handshake, Sam with a warm, two-handed one, and Ellen with a pat on the cheek and a smile. It was all remarkably normal and comfortable and nice.

“So,” Ellen said, clapping her hands once introductions were done. “Anything we can do to help?”

Dean and Castiel shared a glance. “Cas and I did almost everything, but I’ll never turn down your cooking expertise. Want to help with the finishing touches?”

Ellen took command of the kitchen then, and between the six of them, the side dishes came together, the turkey was pulled out and carved, wine was poured, and the table was set. It wasn’t long before they all sat down to eat, Dean carrying the large plate of meat to the table. Castiel ended up across from Dean and diagonal from Sam, who he kept catching giving him appraising glances which turned to smiles whenever he noticed Castiel looking.

The meal passed easily, with conversation flowing around the table. Sam and Jess carried the group, telling anecdotes about school and professors, and Dean drew Castiel in wherever he could. Castiel didn’t mind not talking much; it made it easier to watch the bright smile on Dean’s face and the utter uninhibited joy that lit up his eyes. He might have laughed with his mouth open a few times, but all Castiel could do was smile. Family was what made Dean’s Christmas, and Dean was what made Castiel’s.

“Did you try the seven layer salad?” Dean asked Castiel while Sam was regaling Bobby with a story about a history professor that shared his disposition.

“Dean, I refuse to eat a salad that has mayo for dressing,” Castiel replied.

Dean rolled his eyes, spearing a few pieces of lettuce and other fixings on his own fork. “Come on, Cas. One bite won’t kill you.”

When Dean lifted the fork across the table to Castiel’s lips, Castiel had no choice but to give in. He chewed quickly, but had to admit that it wasn’t as bad as he expected. He opened his mouth to tell Dean this only to realize that everyone was staring at them with knowing little smiles on their faces. Castiel turned bright red, busying himself with cutting his asparagus into way too small pieces while Ellen came to the rescue with a new conversation topic.

Castiel could feel Dean’s eyes on him, but refused to meet them until he had helped clear the dishes and serve dessert. After a dent was made in the pies, Castiel sat back in his chair, feeling uncomfortably full. He hadn’t indulged in food like that in a long time.

Jess seemed immune to the ill-effects of over eating, so she was the one to clap her hands and propose, “Presents?”

They moved to the living room, Castiel following behind at a distance. He lurked at the corner of the room, not really in, not really out.

“Sorry we didn’t bring anything for you, Cas,” Sam said as he reached into the large bag at the base of the couch. “We didn’t know you’d be here.”

“It’s quite alright,” Castiel replied. “Actually,” he continued, shifting his gaze to Dean, “unless you need help cleaning up, I’ll take my leave.”

Dean’s head snapped up from where he was rooting for presents under the Christmas tree. “What?” he asked, as a branch pulled at his hair. He jerked away from it, then turned to Castiel. “Why?”

“Not to eat and run, but I thought you all might enjoy some family time,” Castiel asked, shifting his weight and not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cas,” Dean spoke for the group. “Come in, sit down, and enjoy yourself.” His tone was firm, so Castiel did as he was told. He continued to feel awkward until Dean came to sit next to him, passing out the presents in his arms.

Luckily, the actual exchange didn’t take long, and after a rush of wrapping paper and smiles and “thank you’s,” the gifts were put aside and the evening fell to easy conversation. Castiel began to relax, even throwing in a few anecdotes of his own where they were appropriate.

Eventually, Jess gave a yawn and sleepily curled into Sam’s chest, which he took as a sign that it was time for bed. Dean had replaced the sheets in the guest bedroom, so Sam scooped his girlfriend up and carried her off like a scene in a romance movie. Castiel watched them go, feeling warmer and more complete than he expected to be this Christmas.

“We should probably turn in too,” Bobby said from his seat in the armchair. “Sorry we didn’t give you warning we were coming - you got an inflatable mattress?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Dean replied. “You can have my bed.”

Ellen shot Dean a look. “Dean Winchester, we are not kicking you out of your own bed in your own home.”

“Dean could stay with me,” Castiel blurted. All eyes turned to him, and he could feel his cheeks heating. “I mean, uh, I’m right next door, and I have a spare bedroom. It’s not like he’d, um, have to sleep on the floor or anything if you took his room.”

Dean was staring at Castiel, a definite twinkle in his eye. “Well,” he said, “sounds like a plan.”

After Bobby and Ellen agreed and headed off to bed, Dean and Castiel were left alone in the living room.

“So, um,” Dean began, then held up a finger. He crossed the room, gently picking up the dried green coffee filter and wrapping it around the metal funnel of the angel’s skirt. He attached it with a piece of tape, added the wings and presented it to Castiel. “Whaddya think?”

Castiel grinned. “It’s the most beautiful angel I’ve ever seen.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I could agree with that,” Dean mused, and there was an intensity in his gaze that told Castiel he was missing something.

Castiel didn’t ask, just led the way to his own apartment where Dean headed straight for the tree. He perched the angel at the top and then stepped back to survey their creation. “Perfect,” Castiel declared.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Pretty perfect.”

Dean excused himself to brush his teeth, and Castiel used that time to pull out his phone for the first time that night. There were three missed calls from Gabriel and two texts.

 

 

_Gabriel: Why aren’t you answering Cassie??? What else could you possibly be doing_

_Gabriel: whatever it is it better be important there are CHRISTMAS WISHES ur missing out on_

 

Castiel smiled, typing back a text of his own.

 

 

 

_Castiel: Sorry, Gabriel, but my Christmas turned out to be more eventful than I expected. Do you mind if I call you and fill you in tomorrow?_

_Gabriel: ya alright. Better give me all the deets though_

_Castiel: Of course. Merry Christmas, Gabriel. Tell the others the same from me._

_Gabriel: Merry Christmas bro_

Dean came back to find Castiel sitting on the couch, the TV on and playing some old Christmas movie. “Hey,” he said, sitting down next to him.

“Hey,” Castiel replied, looking over. Dean’s eyes sparkled, and his face changed colors in the shifting light of the TV screen. “So, uh, now that things have settled down…”

His lips pulling into a grin, Dean completed his thought, “Want to cash in on that snow check?”

Castiel glanced down to where their lips were only inches from each other’s. “Not if you keep calling it that,” he breathed.

Dean smiled, and then they were kissing and smiling and kissing and laughing and kissing.

It was ridiculous, Castiel considered later that night as the clock ticked over to 11:59. It was ridiculous to think that the same man Castiel had been cursing just over twenty four hours before was the same one whose arms were wrapped around him as they snuggled under the covers. Castiel had hated Dean because the Christmas music clashed so harshly with the lonely Christmas he was set to have, but now Castiel wanted to blast all those songs again. He wanted to play them on repeat to remember this, _this_ Christmas, the one where he met Dean Winchester.

After all, this would go down as one of the best Christmases Castiel ever had.


End file.
